The Song, The Heart

by Jade Winters

  ‘I don’t want to cause any trouble, Ma. I’d rather crash on a mate’s floor than cause you any aggro.’

  ‘You can put that thought right out of your head. This is your home, Thomas, and you’ll stay here as long as you want. Sod what he thinks,’ she said, nodding her head towards the open door.

  ‘Thanks, Ma.’ With his free arm, he pulled her into a half cuddle.

  She held him close for a few seconds before releasing him and then said, ‘Now get your breakfast down you. I’ve got to get ready for work. Do you need anything?’

  He smiled at her and glanced down at his plate of food. ‘Nah, this looks great, thanks.’

  Thomas sat on the edge of the bed and slurped his tea. He couldn’t remember when he’d last had hot buttered toast and a cuppa. It smelt like heaven. Toast in hand, he was just about to take a bite when his mother spoke again.

  ‘I forgot. This came for you.’ She put her hand into her dressing gown pocket and withdrew a letter.

  He eyed the plain envelope suspiciously. ‘For me? When?’

  She averted her eyes. ‘A long while ago. Dick said he forgot all about it. I only found it when I was clearing out the cupboard. I’m sorry. I hope it isn’t something important.’

  Thomas returned to his food. ‘Don’t worry. It can’t be important now. Most probably rubbish anyway. Just bin it.’

  ‘Okay, son. See you tonight.’

  An hour later, with breakfast eaten, Thomas gathered his clothes to put in the wash. The front door slammed shut, and he could hear the muffled voice of Dick still having a go at his mother as they left the house together. He glanced out the window in time to see Dick pointing a finger up at his room. Thomas shook his head. He’d give it a few days to adjust to being on the outside, then he’d look for his own digs. If he didn’t move on soon, he’d only end up having a row with Dick, and the last thing he wanted was to bring any more trouble to his mother’s doorstep than he already had.

  Clothes in one hand and the food tray in the other, Thomas went downstairs to the kitchen. Dropping his clothes on a pile in front of the washing machine, he placed the tray on the counter and walked over to the bin. Just as he was about to scrape the remains off his plate into the gaping hole, he spotted the letter his mother had found. He frowned. The writing was familiar. He bent down to look closer and his breath caught in his throat. It was Claire’s handwriting. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, almost afraid to touch the envelope.

  Why hadn’t she sent the letter to him in prison? He knew the answer to that question: because he had told her not to. All letters were opened, and he didn’t want anyone knowing his business. His personal life was the only thing he’d had that was his own while in prison—that and his memories—and he’d refused to give either to the prison guards to revel in for their own perverse enjoyment.

  Dipping his hand into the bin, he removed the letter and strode over to the dining table. He sank onto a chair, his eyes never leaving the letter, as if it would disappear if he did. He placed it flat on the table and used his fingertip to outline the letters of his name, a lump forming in his throat at the thought of Claire’s hands touching the envelope. He lifted it to his nose, hoping to inhale her scent, but all he smelt was a slight mustiness. He tried to imagine where Claire had been as she wrote the letter. What had she been thinking as she put her thoughts to paper? He could wait no longer. Gently tearing the flap open, he removed the thin, folded letter and opened it, barely breathing.

  Tinker, it started. Thomas smiled. Her nickname for him. Seeing the word made his eyes well. She always said he couldn’t help tinkering with something or other, and she was right. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always had a fascination with how things worked. At fifteen, he had built his own computer from scratch.

  He carried on reading the letter, his eyes moving along each sentence at a deliberately slow pace. He wanted to devour every word and prolong his last moments with her. She spoke of her love for him and her gratitude for all he had done for her. This gave him pause.

  What I did for her? If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened in the first place. She always saw me as a better person than I am.

  He carried on, each word hitting him with wave after wave of guilt. The writing was illegible on the last paragraph, and he had to re-read it several times to make sense of it.

  You will never know how grateful I am for what you did for me. I’m a coward. I should never have let you take the blame for me. The guilt I feel is too much for me to bear, Tinker. I need to face up to what I did and be judged by the highest power there is: God. I only pray that He, like you, can forgive me. I love you with all my heart, and I’m sorry I led us down the wrong path. I’m sorry for what I turned your life into. It’s too late to change anything, but I need you to know that I’m truly sorry.

  Selfishly, I ask one thing of you. Please tell the truth. I don’t want you punished for the rest of your life for something I did. Chloe’s blood is on my hands, not yours. You did nothing wrong. You just followed the wishes of the woman you had proved your love to a thousand times over. Tell them, Tinker, please tell them. When that is done, I pray I will be able to rest in peace.

  Claire

  He scrunched the letter in his fist and squeezed his eyes shut to banish the image of that fateful night from his mind. The methadone tainted Lucozade bottle that lay beside Chloe’s lifeless body. Claire’s hysterical pleas, begging him to save the child. The mad dash to get Claire away from the scene so the police would believe he had been alone with Chloe.

  All of this he had done because of his love for Claire. Now the final thing she’d asked of him was impossible to achieve. He would never reveal the truth to Morgan. Make peace with her yes. Tell her that her mother was responsible for her niece’s death? Never.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sitting beside Morgan as they sped across town, Skye promised she wouldn’t lose her cool, that she would take each second of the day as it came. She’d had time to get her thoughts into perspective since last night. So they’d kissed, big deal. It wasn’t as if they were still at school. Locking lips didn’t mean the same thing to adults as it did for teenagers. She had no doubt that Morgan had kissed many women in her lifetime, unlike herself.

  Anyway, it was only a bit of fun.

  Morgan slowed the car as they caught up to a long line of vehicles, all stopped in a tight, traffic jam formation.

  ‘And I thought it was bad in London,’ Morgan said, glancing over at Skye with a wry grin.

  Skye’s brain had obviously forgotten the conversation she’d been having with herself, because the second her eyes rested on Morgan’s mouth, her pulse accelerated. Once again, memories of Morgan’s tongue caressing hers caused pleasure to ripple through her body.

  Skye gave a small laugh that she hoped betrayed none of the feelings that were going wild inside her. ‘It’s always like this in December. People start Christmas shopping early here. It gives them something exciting to do to alleviate the small-town boredom.’

  Morgan kept her gaze ahead, watching the grey Mini in front of her inch forward. ‘I can’t believe how soon Christmas has come round again. It seems like only yesterday we were packing decorations away.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Skye didn’t expand any further. The fewer lies she told, the better she felt. In truth, there had been no decorations in her house. Not a turkey nor a single mince pie, no mulled wine nor anything that was synonymous with Christmas. Skye had spent the day watching Only Fools and Horses re-runs and eating reheated chicken curry from the night before. She hadn’t even known where her dad had disappeared to, and she hadn’t bothered to ask. No doubt this year would follow the same pattern. She sighed unexpectedly, causing Morgan to glance at her before returning her focus to the road.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing. Just thinking about the stress of Christmas.’

  Morgan tapped the screen on the sat nav and waited for it t
o re-programme itself, then eased her way out of the traffic and down a side road. They sat in silence as Morgan followed the directions. Ten minutes later, she was pulling into her hotel.

  ‘Are you ready for a day of relaxation?’ Morgan asked as they approached the reception.

  ‘I can’t wait.’ Skye had never been pampered before, having worked nonstop to earn money to keep her and her dad afloat. Spas were a luxury that had never entered her agenda.

  ‘Great,’ Morgan said, opening the door for her and bathing Skye in that breathtaking smile.

  Skye trailed behind as Morgan led the way to the spa changing room and was relieved at the sight of individual stalls. She had thought it would be a communal changing room like the one at her gym, where women wandered around naked. They didn’t bother her, but she thought she would pass out if she saw Morgan naked.

  Undressing quickly, Skye grabbed the white towelling robe that had been provided for her from the back of the door and slipped it on. The fabric smelt of lavender and lilac and was soft against her bare skin.

  She drew in a quick, ragged breath as Morgan stepped out from the cubicle beside hers at the same time. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her high cheekbones were prominent, making her look even more stunning,as if that were possible. Skye didn’t trust her voice not to come out husky with desire, so without saying a word, she walked towards the exit. She didn’t have to turn to see whether Morgan was behind her; she could feel her enveloping presence—tangible, warm—and it made her heart beat at double its usual speed.

  ‘I’ve booked us a massage to start with,’ Morgan said.

  Skye stared at her intently as if she hadn’t heard her right and gulped. ‘A massage?’

  Why the hell did I agree to this? I don’t want to see someone else’s hands caressing her body when it should be me.

  They walked back towards the entrance, where a woman who looked younger than Skye greeted them warmly before leading them into a room decorated in muted tones of grey and lavender. Quiet flute music played over the speakers, filtering through the jasmine-scented air to create a calming ambiance. Skye relaxed. In the centre of the room, two massage tables stood side by side.

  Skye inhaled deeply when two women appeared from a side door and asked them to disrobe. Tentatively, she untied her belt, hesitating for a moment as her eyes lingered on Morgan, who was nonchalantly slipping her robe off. Beneath the robe, Morgan wore nothing but a black skimpy underwear set that showed off her lithe, tanned body. Skye literally swooned at the sight. She felt giddy. Morgan released the clasp on her bra and Skye had to remind herself to breathe when she glimpsed her small, firm breasts with their two perfect rosy buds. She would have given anything to make the masseuses disappear, but they weren’t going anywhere soon, as Morgan lay down on the table and the masseuse started oiling her back with wide, smooth motions.

  Skye shed her robe and climbed onto the table. She caught Morgan looking at her from the corner of her eye, and she gave her a nervous smile. Though her bikini didn’t reveal as much as Morgan’s, she was confident she looked just as good. She didn’t spend three days a week toning her body for nothing.

  Cradling her face in the portal in the table, she let out a long-held breath as firm hands worked their magic on her tight muscles. Her awkwardness vanished as she relaxed more and more with each firm movement of the masseuse’s able hands. With every stroke, she imagined the hands on her back were Morgan’s. She smiled at the image she painted in her mind of Morgan sitting naked on top of her back, the touch of her nipples brushing against her as she leant over. She grew light-headed as the blood rushed through her veins, and the groans from the next table only heightened her excitement.

  Lifting and tilting her head towards her neighbour, she jerked in surprise as she stole a slanted glance at Morgan and saw that she was watching her. Skye expected her to look away, but Morgan remained facing her. The lazy, sexy grin on Morgan’s face made Skye’s breath catch, and she quickly pushed her face back down the hole, where she kept it until the massage was finished.

  ‘I think I need to go to sleep,’ Morgan murmured when they were left alone to ‘come to’.

  ‘Mmm, me too,’ Skye said sleepily. She had never felt so relaxed in her entire life.

  ‘Do you want to come up to my room for a nap? It’s a king-size bed. There’s more than enough room for two.’ Morgan grinned at her mischievously. ‘I don’t think I can sit in a sauna or hot tub.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Skye agreed.

  ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Uh huh.’ She didn’t trust herself to formulate proper words.

  Skye sat up. She couldn’t feel her body. Sleep was exactly what she needed.

  They returned to the changing room in a comfortable silence and showered and changed. Morgan looked even more zoned out than she felt. They walked across the plush carpet to the lift, which took them up to the sixth floor.

  Skye shielded her eyes as Morgan opened her suite’s door, the bright sunlight nearly blinding her.

  ‘I’ll close the curtains,’ Morgan said, crossing the room to pull the ceiling-to-floor curtains across, plunging the room into darkness.

  Skye felt along the wall and flipped the light switch. The soft light was an improvement on the harshness of the sun. Morgan flopped down onto the bed and kicked off her shoes, while Skye stood frozen by the door.

  ‘Don’t stand on ceremony. Get comfortable,’ Morgan said, stretching her arms above her head and pulling her shirt tight across her breasts.

  Skye gazed at her before dragging her eyes away to take in the lavish suite, with its four-poster king-size bed, a state of the art curved TV on the wall, and a cream- and gold-flecked sofa. The room was the size of a one-bedroom apartment.

  Morgan gestured for Skye to join her on the bed. Was she really expecting her to ‘nap’ while they were barely inches apart? Is she crazy?

  ‘I’ll lay on the sofa,’ Skye said, walking towards it.

  On her knees, Morgan edged her way to the end of the bed and caught hold of Skye’s arm. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be quite safe with me. I promise.’

  Her silky warm smile undid all of Skye’s inhibitions.

  ‘It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you who should be afraid.’

  Morgan pulled her closer, nuzzled her mouth against Skye’s ear and murmured, ‘You won’t hear any complaints from me.’

  Morgan’s words wrapped around Skye’s head like a thick fog, and desire swept away any reply she might have made. Skye watched, open-mouthed, as Morgan’s slender fingers tugged at her shirt buttons. With both hands, she pulled it aside, and Skye gawped at her chest. Morgan wore nothing underneath except for a silver chain.

  ‘I can’t wait for you to show me what I should be afraid of.’ Morgan gave her an erotic teasing smile as she put her arms around Skye’s neck and pulled her tight against her nakedness. Skye’s last clear thought was how warm Morgan’s skin felt and how she smelt like home.

  Without another word, their mouths found each other’s in a maelstrom, sending a shock wave through Skye’s entire body. With trembling fingers, she cupped Morgan’s breasts and the volcano inside her rumbled when Morgan let out a small gasp. She wanted to tear the rest of Morgan’s clothes off and hold her naked in her arms. Morgan wrapped her thighs around Skye’s leg, pressing herself hard against her muscle, and pushed her tongue deeper into Skye’s mouth as her hands gripped her hair. Skye lowered her hand down Morgan’s taut stomach, slipped it into her jeans and searched for her pleasure point. A lump formed in Skye’s throat when she felt Morgan for the first time. Her finger explored the small bud until it grew to its fullest.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Morgan whispered into her mouth.

  A hot tide of passion raged within as her fingers found Morgan’s entrance and slipped easily inside. Warm wetness enveloped her as Morgan thrust her hips back and forth. Morgan’s nail scratched the length of Skye’s back, her breathing growing more ragged the harder Skye pressed
. A fuse burnt inside of her, waiting for the right moment to cause Morgan to explode, but it wasn’t time. Not yet. Skye wanted to savour the softness of Morgan’s lips, the warmth of her body, the freshness of her scent. She wanted to sear every last second into her memory. With her fingers still inside her, Skye caressed each of Morgan’s nipples with her tongue before slowly trailing a path to her waist. Quickly, she slid her fingers out, tugged Morgan’s jeans down and brought her centre to her mouth. Morgan writhed beneath her ecstatically as she sunk her tongue inside her liquid fire.

  They were caught in an incredible black vortex of pleasure that Skye wished would never end. The dormant sexuality of her body had finally been awakened. Morgan’s passion had lit the flame within. No one had ever made Skye feel this alive before, and as her touch sent Morgan to higher levels of ecstasy, making her cry out for release, she knew no one else ever could.

  ***

  Morgan lay on her back, recovering. She opened her eyes and faced Skye, who was looking back at her with a crazy grin. Morgan laughed.

  ‘And there I was thinking I knew everything. Jesus, Skye, Did you read the lesbian karma sutra from back to front?’

  Skye burst out laughing. ‘Are you complaining?’

  ‘Are you kidding? What’s there to complain about? I’ve just been to heaven and back several times in the space of a few hours.’

  ‘And it’s only’—Skye looked over Morgan’s shoulder at the digital clock—‘one o’clock.’

  Morgan ran her finger along Skye’s curves. Even in this moment of bliss, sadness lurked in her sea-green eyes. Maybe it’s all to do with her aunt. Working and taking care of someone must be draining.

  ‘Do you know what I’d like to do today?’

  Skye shifted closer, curving herself against Morgan. ‘What would that be?’

  ‘Make you happy.’

  Satisfaction pursed Skye’s lips. ‘That would be near enough impossible.’

  ‘Why?’